


Thirty Minute Tranquilizer

by ouro_boros



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Crack, Gen, I had to google who invented the lightbulb for this, Podfic Welcome, hypothetical debate, its been so long since i've seen the term but, so you know it has to be good, thats all i have to say about that, you know how in hector vs the future theres a character whos half robot half hologram?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouro_boros/pseuds/ouro_boros
Summary: A) At any given time, at least one part of Chapman's is open.B) In any given part of Chapman's, the proprietor is there to assist any clients.There is some improbability here, but not an impossible amount--there is an hour and a half where these statements are false.





	Thirty Minute Tranquilizer

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify from the tags, I did know who invented the light bulb, I just always need to make sure.

Every evening, there is a period of an hour and a half when all of Chapman’s is closed. This is the only time when there is no one in the building but the owner, asleep in bed. From 3:00 am, when the pub closes, to 4:30 am, when the smoothie store begins setting up for the morning. For the first thirty minutes of this period, the owner, for all intents and purposes, is dead. For the last hour, he is merely sleeping, though very deeply. It is unknown to the patrons of the business, as well as the owner’s many friends and few close friends, whether this is the only time he sleeps. It is not possibly true, and yet—

“No way he sleeps that little; he’s got to have a replacement or something,” Georgie comments. “I swear, whatever shop _I’m_ in, _he’s_ in. It’s like there’s ten of him.”

“That would require far more than ten of him,” Antigone says.

“Maybe he has a cloning machine.”

“Where?”

“I dunno. It’s a big building.”

“He can’t have a cloning machine,” Rudyard groans.

“Why not?” Georgie crosses her arms in an attempt to look knowledgeable.

“Because then we’d need a cloning machine,” Rudyard states, “and we can’t afford one.”

“We could get Antigone to build one.”

“Don’t encourage him,” comes Antigone’s reply.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Antigone. I bet it’d be a breeze for you. If Eric can do it—”

“He _can’t_.”

“Of course,” Rudyard says. “He’d obviously have just bought it.”

“No, he—Chapman does _not_ have a cloning machine.”

“Why not?” Georgie asks, finally sounding as knowledgeable as her pose framed her.

“Cloning machines aren’t real,” Antigone answers. “And I think we’d be able to tell. What you’re suggesting would involve too many clones to just hide somewhere.”

“Eh, you’re right,” Georgie admits, unfolding her arms in forfeit of her momentary grandeur. “Food for thought for your next raunchy book, though.”

“My—uh—”

“Maybe,” Georgie soldiers on, “he’s actually just a bunch of people who look alike.”

Rudyard scowls.

“Isn’t that essentially what clones are?”

“Nope. Entirely different concepts.”

“Maybe he does only sleep for an hour and a half, but makes up for it with all that coffee,” Rudyard halfheartedly contributes, the rest of his heart in deep consideration of Chapman’s coffee machine.

“Ooh, or maybe he’s a hivemind that usually lives in one body _but_ can split up at will. Scratch that ‘clone’ concept, Antigone, I want a hivemind.”

“Wh—what do you—I’m—shut up!”

Madeline squeaks a protest. Rudyard listens intently, then translates, “Madeline says that if you want an author to write something for you, you at least have to pay her.”

“With what salary?”

“Nevermind,” Rudyard says hurriedly.

“Maybe he actually has a bunch of _holograms_ set up around Chapman’s, so he can look like he’s everywhere at once.”

“Why stop there?” Antigone exclaims, forcing recovery from the reminder of her novel. “Maybe _he’s_ a hologram!”

“Now you’re getting it!”

The door _dings_ open, sunlight creeping in around a spectacularly beautiful head. Eric Chapman observes how the Funns and Georgie are arranged, one on the floor, one on a counter, one standing, briefly imagines what spirited discussion they could have been having, then enters fully, closing the door behind him. The sunlight remains despite its source being eliminated, gleaming around Eric’s head like Davy, Swan, and Edison’s muse.

The room now filled with light, he says, “Hello,” nervous for his lack of reason to visit. “How’s your morning been?”

“Eric,” Georgie begins, “do you have access to hologram technology?”

“Of course,” Eric answers almost immediately. “Why, do you need it?”

“No,” she says surreptitiously. “Do _you_ need it? Eric?” She clicks the ‘C’ hard, hoping the emphasis would intimidate him. She is mostly right.

“Um. What do you—”

“Just answer the question. And tell us the truth.” On the last word, Georgie’s voice pitches down and finishes the job that the hard ‘C’ started.

“No—I, I don’t _need_ it, I only use it sometimes, hardly ever, I just like having it and I’d really be happy to give it to you if _you_ need it.”

“Are you lying to us? Eric?”

“No!”

Georgie holds his flustered gaze. When satisfied, she sighs and leans back on her surface.

“Bad news, guys. I don’t think Eric’s a hologram.”

This throws Eric off balance even further.

“I—What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Antigone says, exasperated.

“What did you want anyway?” Rudyard asks.

Eric stumbles to phrase “just to see how you were doing” in a way Rudyard wouldn’t take as challenge, fails, and the incident is forgotten. Georgie’s conclusion was not entirely true, but they would discover that eventually. It would take a long story, from a long time ago.

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many Wooden Overcoats fics in progress. One I wanted to have done in time for Halloween, a Frankenstein AU, but I just couldn't finish in time. I honestly have no idea how long that's going to turn out. I'm still working on my Eric-and-Antigone-become-friends-question-mark series, and I have a sort of coffee shop AU in its early stages, so we'll see how this all does.
> 
> All that to say, I wrote this one in a day. This day. I wrote this today. So it's not the highest quality thing I've ever done, but I like it. And thank you for reading!


End file.
